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itsclydebitches · 1 year

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Jonelias thought of the day is that Elias must come across as so stuffy and boring to those at the Institute - which, you know, very much helps hide his true nature - but as an avatar of the Eye and a man determined to avoid the End, Elias is someone whose entire being revolves around the interplay of knowledge and experiences. He's compelled to Know it all and his efforts to avoid death invite him to Experience it all too, a fascinating combination of passive observer and, by virtue of being a 200+ year-old in search of true immortality, an active participant too. This is a man whose longevity and thirst for knowledge invites an obsession with life that contradicts the 'Sits in his office doing nothing but spreadsheets all day' image he's learned to cultivate. (Though, to be clear, he does love the spreadsheets.) And I don't just mean "obsession with life" in the sense of him avoiding the finality of death, but actually loving the act of being alive.

I think a lot of what the fandom (rightly) jokes about in regards to his characterization is a reflection of that obsession. Elias has a relationship with Peter Lukas that goes far beyond the cold practicality of an alliance, hinting at a romance (if you steer towards a LonelyEyes reading), or just Elias' desire to still be able to place bets with someone while he's trying to end the world. Similarly, his powers ensure that he's never truly alone - if he dies, he takes the rest of the Archive with him - forever supplying him with a warped companionship that doesn't threaten him like he perceives he was threatened as Jonah Magnus, with his acquaintances working to complete their own rituals. In true Beholding style, he's got the heart of a fucked-up scientist who's endlessly curious about the world around him: 'Oooh what happens if I let my friend waste away in the Lonely?' He shows up at Jon's birthday party not just to secretly gloat and keep an eye on things (ha), but because he legitimately wants cake. Who wouldn't want cake? What's the point of living forever if you can't have cake?? Well, for an avatar the exquisite sweetness of fear is just as good, but my point stands. Beyond his fear of death, that enjoyment is at the heart of Elias' goal, with Jon describing his experience as the Pupil as a kind of agonized bliss and Elias confirming this by saying he was having the most wonderful dream. Morality aside, he likes interacting with the horror of the Entities, something we saw all the way back during the "[PLEASURED EXHALATION]" scene. Learning new things feels good. Experiencing news things is enjoyable. Learning and experiencing Bad Things is especially nice given his patron. Consistently, Elias' setbacks are met with interest, or a mild annoyance that then eventually settles into satisfaction because they are also new experiences for him and the Eye: going to jail, getting to psychologically torture Martin, having his own secrets exposed. There's a lot throughout the series to imply that Elias enjoys watching Jon become the Key, not just because it means he's succeeding in his goals, but because there's genuine interest and pride in seeing him "grow" by Elias' standards. The repetition of "our world," "our patron," etc. implies a connection; the intention to experience this new world with another, to enjoy it rather than simply exist in it for the mere sake of existence. Elias is a man whose entire essence boils down to, "I NEED TO KNOW ALL THE THINGS, EXPERIENCE EVERYTHING, AND LIVE FOREVER WHILE ACHIEVING THAT, TO UNDERSTAND IT ALL SO I CAN CONTROL IT ALL AND HAVE A DAMN GOOD TIME IN THE PROCESS, EVEN WHILE I SUCCUMB TO THE PRIMAL FEAR THAT DRIVES ME I WILL PARADOXICALLY EMBRACE IT, AND YEAH THAT'S LARGELY BECAUSE I SERVE THE LITERAL GOD OF JUDGY SURVEILLANCE BUT ALSO THAT'S JUST ME."

So anyway, I keep thinking about how this characterization could intersect with S1-2 Jon: prickly, awkward, semi-isolated, desperate to be recognized by someone whose authority he believes in. AKA the boss who, at an unprecedented young age, rose to the top of the Institute they both work at, perceived by those around him as far less interesting than he actually is. Parallels, anyone? Imagine Jon getting to really talk to Elias, realizing how much he has to offer after 200 years of life (though of course he doesn't know that), and just constantly being blindsided by not just the knowledge, but the enthusiasm for everything he's learned and been through - the good and the horrifyingly awful that, despite himself, Jon is equally drawn to. Elias recognizes every quote Jon drops into a conversation and has another witty line to pair it with. He doesn't just indulge his nerdy rambles, but participates in them. He's refined in all the ways that Jon expects - books, opera, music, etc. - and also casually drops in references to acid trips and fucking orgies. Imagine an early series Jon who forms a strong bond with Elias outside of the web (ha x2) he's been weaving, becoming dependent on his friendship and just a little bit completely in love. Elias is inherently fascinating, but he's also just Some Guy, and the combination of that is just perfect for a necrotic Archivist who simultaneously wants to be guided by his 'betters' and prove that he's an equal. Why Elias would be interested in turn barely needs stating: Jon is literally Elias' everything, in a horrifyingly tragic and like, Gothic Romance sense? What would that kind of relationship have changed? It would have likely made Elias' job even easier, but what about Jon?

...I'm not saying that Jon's drive to protect humanity would have been warped into something tragically dangerous if he'd first come to see his intelligent, complex, shockingly kind (from his nonexistent self-esteem POV), secretly-an-eldritch-monster boss as the epitome of humanity... but I'm also not saying it couldn't have!

#TMA #The Magnus Archives #Jonelias #this is so rambly I'm sorry #I'm just having a lot of feelings about these two #Jon deserves a corruption arc that he's convinced himself is a hero's journey #as a treat #also I keep thinking about Elias' refusal to define a human #and the Witcher line about Regis - a vampire - being the best of humanity #can a monster be human?#sure why not #especially when so many humans are already monstrous #I just want Jon to rule under a horrifically misguided idea of which humans are worth protecting #his wonderful desire to protect molded into not just the key that will end the world #but the thing that perpetuates its torment #as! a! treat!

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ophelian-darling · 2 years

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OMG YOU WRITE FOR MONSTER NOW!? The first post i read from you was about what type of darling giorno likes and oh my lord was it amazing. The way you wrote it and the sophistication of that post matched giorno so well and the dialogue "Please stay my innocent amore forever" was just 💕❤️ (i will absolutely steal that lmao)

anyways can i ask for general headcannons for yandere johan liebert? Anything you want to write about him is perfectly fine!

Link of Giorno's post

TW: Obsession, emotional abuse, Murder threat.

enjoy ♡

The paradox of an existence is what paints Johan in a perfect light : the calm, comely curve of his lips masks all of the convulsing twistification under his pale skin. Similarly to an ocean, His comportment appears lovely to the eye, even a bit of depth under his eyes unfolds a picturesque image of a midnight chasm and a visible wisdom. However, the beauty and curiosity of exploring more discolors into a monstrosity and terror with each dive; showing an endless abyss of Nietzschean horrors. The lovely smile of his becomes a twist of depravity and never been a man so sane yet so insane all at once.

Shadows danced within his head, casting a distorted light with every move they made. It would sound unbelievable; but he really filled his imagination with paintings of you: sometimes shapeless, at other times blurry, But there was one detail that remained.

Your lips; the wonder of them. Johan never had the capacity to think of someone in a particular manner -Other than connecting directly to his demise- yet he thought of your features more than he should. Every little detail was mesmerizing in his eyes; the blood drops in your lips, the contour of them and how they form to your emotions so lively. Unlike him, you were able to taste glimmering joys and dim sorrows, savor life as it is, not drowning in some of an anarchic pit of despair and conflict; and that made him crave some of the warmth you had.

Johan is completely calm around you, His posture plays perfectly and complies to his acting, acting that role of a good man around others and a good friend of yours (although these words of friendship or romance meant nothing to him, 'friend' wasn't correct, more like a sculptor and his muse) and coffining the monster away from others- you specifically. He doesn't want his Obsession and maladive affinity to surface and scare you away- at least not yet, not in a time when you could run away from him easily.

Dreaming of being embraced and melted into you, or even having each other belong together and as one -like a Shadow and an Anima- dwelled in him so many nights. Maybe he can regain his sentiment again? experience normality or maybe… take your own name? It didn't matter how, what was important that you were his salvation from the cruelty of everything.

He has a way with words: not like a formal sparker or a reckless lover, but of a poet. Johan flows his speech as sweetly as honey and as softly as a rose petal, tugging at anyone's heartstrings with a warm feeling. When in flirtation, his words come out Cloudy; a thin string between Coquetry and Courtesy. However, When you receive that small billet-doux on your door, your heart is immediately pierced.

You've never seen someone in a romantic light (minus some short-lived fixations) and you were almost sure that no one was willing to make a move on you -at least that's what you concluded from all of your acquaintances friendly behavior- and here you were, re-reading the small note over and over again, absorbing the beautifully written words and inhaling its fragrant Aroma of flowers. you held the paper like a bundle of nerves, very gingerly and benignly. There was a tickling skip of your heartbeat; a sudden flow of feelings rushing out as the echo of the words calmed, never been so fluttered before.

"Beloved, Of Thy Smile I adore,

As Pure as a Seraph, As Beautiful as a long Dream

Of what darling Bud you've flourished? Of what Angel you've been carved?

A Memory filled with hues of a divine Beauty, a heart with a wound so sore

Draws Thee in the pale moon, Kisses Thee under the warm Gleam

Thorns Hurt yet don't pain,

Take them As the sweetest antidote

All Oblations for Thou never in Vain

For All joy and love on you I dote."

-Your Wounded Cupid, Johan.

You Are blessed. Never in a blue moon you've thought about your Capacity to lure someone else, let alone Johan Liebert himself. You'd burn the last candles of thought and wonder, only to end up with no answer: Why me of all the loveliest, savviest or highest people that he chose me? The questions would die down soon to be replaced with another blissful feeling, feeling that was alive and meant to die…

'Emotions' are just a set of false faces. He can wear and crawl under any role of a normal human effortlessly. Johan loves your smile as much as he counts your tears; creating a path to your heart by offering you the mimicry of warm affection and a color of what Love appears as. You smile back- and that's a hope for a monster like him.

What is the meaning of a family? or a loved one? He asks you silently. He can't overlook that look of joy on your face whenever you spoke to a close person of yours, and it tugs something at his soul. Was Heaven the other people? He wants to ask as well; and wanting to hold your hand and go into the unknown, solaced that you'll be with him. The more he fixes his sight on your life, the more he comes to the realization that he can be your salvation as much as you're his. there is no need for others when you have him.

The peaceful world inside your mind crumbles apart, or better to say: reforms. Johan wouldn't say that everyone around you was evil out loud, he has just to expose the wickedness of others around you, how much they used you to their benefit, or twist their words and create the worst scenarios in your head… He didn't corrupt you for his enjoyment, he was just keeping the Lily of a human in Heaven.

The Sweet fall of an Angel. He's now delighted, even more delighted. The sheer happiness you used to show faded into the clouds of despair; a crack through the rose-colored glasses broke its way through and through. Gorgeously Weak and beauteously Shattered, you're now left easy to be munched, chomped, gobbled and gulped; as to become one with him.

What affection meant to him: the absolute control and submission between two; dominion of the flesh and spirit in order to achieve the perfect union, and so he did. He's always been obsecure as Chaos, If never in a cruel way.

He was everything alluring and gruesome; a chiaroscuro painting of an Angel and a Devil, cruel to be kind, and kind to be cruel. Everytime you thought you catched a thread to pull in his persona, more tangles would unwrap. In other words, he wasn't one to be understood.

Johan Contradicts his honeyed words in cruel actions: He can simply Call you the prettiest thing as he aims a bullet at you, taking delight at the sight of your cascading tears or the sound of your incisioning sobs, at other times, He plants warm kisses on your hands and face, lacing his lips with venomous letters and twisting sayings, wanting to see the broken look on your face yet again, or maybe a pearl of a tear from your eye. He doesn't -would never- hate you, it's just that you were pretty when you cried.

You've lost all of your weapons and winning Cards from the beginning. There wasn't luck or skill enough to defeat him, and you ought to be the most knowledgeable of the reality through his eyes: there was no one in the world except of you two, no heaven or hell except when you're together, and no force that shall banish you from him.

"Suffer with me"

"I know not of a meaning except of your love"

"We belong together"

"Ich bin du, und du bist ich"

#glad you liked them ♡#when someone compliments my writing: 💓↗️💓↗️💓↗️💓↗️#feel free to quote anything i write!#yandere johan liebert #yandere johan #johan liebert #johan x reader #johan liebert x reader #monster is such a masterpiece why almost no one gives content about it???#naoki urasawa's monster #he's really hard to write sorry if it's ooc #it's the first time i write a poem lol

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jay-and-dean · 5 years

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Lipstick 1 : Lips

(Dean x Reader)

Summary : Reader wears lipstick. That’s it.

Note : those were supposed to be drabbles. Lol. Thank you to @roonyxx for being part of this project.

***WANT TO READ MORE ? => MASTERLIST***

___________________________

***Chapter One : Lips (Reader Pov, fluff)

Words : 1.6K

***Chapter Two : Neck (Sam Pov, fluff, angst ?)

***Chapter three : Cock (Dean Pov, smut)

___________________________

1. Lips

I don’t know what he has planned. I don’t even know what it means, really. I’m not used to this kind of offer and he didn’t really explain. He just said as Sammy wasn’t here, he wanted to spend the evening with me, to go out and “eat something a little better than usual, just the two of us for once”, what does that even mean ?

All alone, with him… I don’t know what to think, and, in the bathroom, I just try not to think too much like I usually tend to do. This is not a date. This is just my friend offering to go out to eat something… in a pretty restaurant.

Dean sees me every day. He saw me covered in mud, crying in pain and sick as hell. He is here when I get out of bed, when I drank too much and when periods make me grumpy… But looking in the mirror, I just feel anxiety eat me alive.

I’m in love with him. I have been in love with him forever, seriously. I don’t even remember not loving him, I don’t really know what my heart is for, other than being desperately in love with Dean Winchester. I was on love with him before I saw him, when Sammy first told me about him in high school. I already was in love with him during my first time with another guy, when I graduated, when my father died and I was left alone. I started hunting to avenge my father, that’s what I tell everybody, the truth is it was only half because of that, the other half was… well, just to get close to him.

The two men I really dated in my life left me because of that, they just didn’t stand a chance. They knew I will love Dean forever, and that they could only be second choices. Everyone knows that… Except for him.

And when he invited me to live in the bunker, he couldn’t know he was dooming me to be even more obsessed. Now I don��t even try to date other men to forget him anymore. Unrequited love for him seems better than a lie with anyone else, so be it. This is my life now.

So yes. Years later, when he says he want to spend an evening just with me, out in town, alone with me and maybe wine, I can’t just be calm. Evenings with him are usual, but mostly watching horror movies in his room.

I tried three different outfits already, and, as I don’t own anything else than my usual clothes, I really just tried three pretty identic jeans and t-shirts ; chose one of them and sighed.

Lipstick. Yes, good idea. It won’t be too obvious that I wear it for him, because I often do. It’s my way of saying I’m feminine in a world of manly men, husky voices and violent fights. And it suits me well.

Dark red, like blood. It gives me a fierce look, but in a sexy way. My mouth attracts eyes, and I can look where I want, convenient.

“Mh. Lipstick” Dean grunts in a frown making my heart sink.

Why would he make me insecure about how I look ? About what I chose to wear ? He never does that… Dean, my Dean, he’s just not like that. I look down and, suddenly, the only thing that made me confident is the reason I want to hide.

His green eyes are incredible. I always knew that but I never saw the reflection of the flame of a candle in it. He keeps his eyes on mine while I eat, making it almost impossible, I just don’t know how to use my hands anymore, or how many times I’m supposed to chew before I swallow. I’m just not hungry anyway.

“… And I really liked the way you made Ketch flinch” he laughs, allowing me to see his perfect teeth. “You’re such a badass ! He’s more afraid of you than me !”

“Well I made him suffer after he hit you that evening… He never should have hit you” I shrug.

He smiles again, making the whole room disappear. The other tables fade and the walls fall in my head. My hand shakes around my fork. There is a freaking tablecloth ! He can’t afford a restaurant that expansive, and he doesn’t really like fancy food anyway, so why ? Dean Winchester in a place like that is a cute paradox. Like it was possible to forget he’s a hero.

But then his glare goes down on my lips, and his smile fades completely. I lower my head, suddenly almost ashamed of that flaming red on my lips, like it was obscene, inappropriate. I want to disappear forever.

I can’t finish my plate because of the lump in my throat, even if the food is delicious. He ate everything in a few minutes and I know him, he’s still hungry.

“You don’t like your fish ?” he asks, looking at my plate.

“It’s delicious” I try to smile but it reminds me I don’t want him to look at my lips. “I’m just… Not very hungry.”

“Come on you’re always hungry” he smiles again and I look down. “Is there something wrong ?” he frowns.

“No” I lie, hiding my mouth behind my hand for a second. “Thank you, Dean.”

He parks outside the bunker, not entering the garage. I don’t know why but don’t dare to ask as he frowns and clears his voice when I’m about to speak.

He gets out of the car and my eyes follow him while he walks toward my door. He opens it for me, like I couldn’t do it myself, he acts so weird. I take a deep breath, trying to figure out why he planned this diner. His bright eyes are on me while I get out of the car.

I walk toward the front door of the bunker. This place has never been awkward, but somehow it is now. We walk, surrounded by the dark until we reach the place just outside the door where a light allows me to see his handsome face again.

“There…” he says and stops in front of the door.

“Yeah ?” I stay next to him, not knowing out to act.

He swallows hard and something happens.

On the back on my hand I feel his fingers brush my skin, like he hesitated to take it in his. I look up, trying to read his face. He’s not smiling, just looking at my face, so deep in my eyes I feel naked and weak.

“You’re beautiful…” he murmurs.

I’m taken aback, I want to search his face but I’m too afraid he would read mine easily, each cell of my body screaming my love for him. So, once again, I look down, at the small gap between the top of my shoes and the top of his.

“No Dean, that’s kind but I’m not…” I say shyly. “And you don’t like my makeup…” I dare, trying to talk to my best friend and to forget that I am in love with him.

“What ? No… Why would you say that ?” he sounds surprised. “Hey look at me… please ?”

I slowly look up, lingering on his legs and on his chest. When I reach his face, I realize how close he his. He’s never that close to me, not when we’re not in a middle of a fight. His smell makes me dizzy.

“You made it clear you didn’t like lipstick, Dean” I whisper, my breath stuck on my throat.

“That’s not what you think…” he says deep, getting even closer.

His hand finally takes mine and butterflies invade my stomach. He bends slowly, his lips brushing mine, his breath on my mouth.

“I just… wanted to kiss you and…” he doesn’t finish his sentence, putting his lips on mine.

His other hand cups my face, here, just before the front door. He kisses me really sweetly, under the weak light of my home, like in a romcom, except it’s a bunker and he lives here too. I can’t move.

He takes my waist in his big strong hands, those hands I always dreamed of, even when they were covered in blood.

His lips are soft and his nose brushes mine. Then I feel his tongue, hot and wet, and I have to cling to his shoulder not to fall. I kiss him back with all I have, focusing on everything I can, every inch of skin in contact with him, his smell and the way his hands are on me…

“How do I look ?” he pants, breaking the kiss for a minute.

My lipstick is everywhere. His mouth is red, and all around it…

He half smiles, putting a strand of hair behind my ear. Then he captures my lips once, twice, and wraps his strong arms around me.

“You’re beautiful” I say, closer to admitting my feelings than just answering his question.

I try to nuzzle on his neck but both his hands cup my face, he makes me look at him.

“I really love lipstick on you, just not that much on me” he jokes, pecking my lips.

“Dean what was tonight ?”

“My plan to kiss you…”

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***FEEDBACK IS GOLD***

Forever Tags : @parinarain @animegirlgeeky @mogaruke @masterof-agony @rainflowermoon @tftumblin @deans-baby-momma@roonyxx @animegirlgeeky @paradoxical–intentions @thefaithfulwriter@parinarain@vicariouslythruspn@emeow1496@daryldixonandfrogs @holylulusworld @cocklesbelli@sandlee44@mogaruke@masterof-agony @mogaruke @donnaintx

Tags are open, tell me if yours doesn’t work

#supernatural #spn #dean winchester #dean x y/n #dean x reader #fluff #smut #angst

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inejkaz · 4 years

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i was tagged by @mollyweasly to answer the following 73 questions! thank you for tagging me steph ♥

on a scale of 1-10, how excited are you about life right now? i'm actually pretty content and the only thing that i'm rdreading right now is my upcoming finals so maybe 6!

describe yourself in a hashtag? #alwaystired

if you could do a love scene with anyone, who would it be? no one comes to mind but steph's answer was chris evans and i'd say the same tbh 👀

if your life was a musical, what would the marquee say? uh maybe "dumb bitch" or "chaotic mess" LMAO idk honestly my life isn't that interesting most of the time

what’s one thing people don’t know about you? that i'm lowkey depressed. most of my old friends know this but they don't rlly know how bad it makes me feel sometimes & i don't think i'll ever tell my college friends abt this except for one person!

what’s your wake up ritual? lay in bed for another 5-15 mins, check the time, and brush my teeth. next i'd either shower, workout, or attend online class

what’s your go to bed ritual? just on my phone looking at useless things and answering my friends' messages. i'll get tired soon so i'll just daydream and sleep. lately i've been listening to music to help me sleep!

what’s your favorite time of day? late night and early morning

your go to for having a good laugh? i love watching lip sync battles. my favorites are by emma stone, tom holland, anne hathaway & channing tatum!

dream country to visit? the UK! my cousin talks abt it all the time and now she's taking her postgrad degree there which makes me incredibly jealous 😢 but honestly i'm dying to travel europe as a whole!

what’s the biggest surprise you’ve ever had? probably when my high school friends bought me the doc martens shoes that i LOVE for my 17th birthday! i love them and miss them even tho many are not in touch with me anymore

heels or flats/sneakers? flats/sneakers definitely! i've never tried heels tbh i can only endure wedges and they alr hurt SO much

vintage or new? both

who do you want to write your obituary? probably my best friend!

style icon? taylor swift during the red era, noora sætre, orion carloto, ashley aka best.dressed!

what are three things you cannot live without? books, internet, family

what’s one ingredient you put in everything? salt

what 3 people living or dead would you want to make dinner for? taylor swift, chris evans, audrey hepburn

what’s your biggest fear in life? the unknown, anything horror & reptiles esp lizards (i can't stand reptiles AT ALL i'd literally cry and die if i have to touch one or sleep in the same room with one)

window or aisle seat? window

what’s your current tv obsession? haven't been watching any tv lately but i've been watching mukbangs on youtube a lot

favorite app? line (a messaging app mostly used by indonesians. i rlly like the stickers and themes i own lmao)

secret talent? i can play guitar just a lil bit

most adventurous thing you’ve ever done in your life? either drinking beers with my friends on a school field trip or not telling my parents that i went to the city alone during college just to hangout by myself

how would you define yourself in three words? introverted, chaotic, anxious

favorite piece of clothing you own? an adidas jacket that was on a 50% sale for international women's day!!!

a must have clothing item that everyone should have? black pants

a superpower you would want? invisibility and mind control!!!

what’s inspiring you in life right now? since i was a little kid, i've always been inspired by my cousin. she's my role model!

best piece of advice you’ve received? to literally BELIEVE in yourself

best advice you’d give your teenage self? don't be so self-aware bc everyone's busy with themselves, make more friends, cherish your time in school more

a book everyone should read? harry potter series, the raven cycle

what would you like to be remembered for? for being a good, positive person

how do you define beauty? beauty is whatever that evokes a positive feeling out of oneself i guess!

what do you love most about your body? my eyes

best way to take a rest/decompress? skincare, listen to soothing music, drink a warm beverage, watch smth that's easy to watch, and just sleep!

favorite place to view art? galleries, but i've only been to one sadly

if your life was a song, what would the title be? maybe "paradox" or "misunderstood"

if you could master one instrument, what would it be? piano! but it's expensive and not portable so if i'm being realistic, it'd be guitar

if you had a tattoo, where would it be? in the back of my neck! also maybe on any of my fingers or below my ribcage

dolphins or koalas? koalas

what’s your spirit animal? deer!

best gift you’ve ever received? doc martens shoes given by my friends!

best gift you’ve given? i think i wrote my friend letters to open when she's in different moods once

what’s your favorite board game? monopoly

what’s your favorite color? pink, purple, yellow, monochrome

least favorite color? i just dislike bright obnoxious colors

diamond or pearls? diamonds

drugstore makeup or designer? both, but i mostly can't afford designer anyway so..

blow-dry or air-dry? both

pilates or yoga? i've never tried any actually

coffee or tea? both, but i'm leaning towards tea

what’s the weirdest word in the english language? can't think of any right now..

dark chocolate or milk chocolate? milk chocolate!!!

stairs or elevators? elevators

summer or winter? winter

you are stuck on an island, you can pick one food to eat forever without getting tired of it, what would you eat? burgers!!

a dessert you don’t like? basically i won't like anything with fruits

a skill you’re working on mastering? photoshop i guess? i'm planning to learn coding too now that i have the time!!

best thing to happen to you today? probably finishing my gifset! but honestly, i was supposed to be studying lmao

worst thing to happen to you today? i didn't study lmao

best compliment you’ve ever received? i don't think it's anything that memorable so i can't really think of one

favorite smell? jasmine

hugs or kisses? both

if you made a documentary, would it be about? space, mythology

last piece of content you consumed that made you cry? i get a little teary eyed if i come across a touching content on instagram/twitter tbh lmao. but i'd say the last movie that made me cry so bad was her (2013)

lipstick or lipgloss? lipstick

sweet or savory? savory

girl crush? emma watson

how do you know your in love? don't think i've ever been in love, i've only experienced like a very long crush so...

a song you can listen to on repeat? there are a lot... but for now, woman by mumford & sons and anything by taylor swift

if you could switch lives with someone for a day, who would it be? taylor swift!!!

what are you most excited for about this time in your life? i've just been enjoying editing for tumblr a lot, i haven't really posted consistent content in my 10 years of being here so that's been fun. i also want to learn coding and become an overall healthier person by working out regularly & eating mindfully! honestly i'm trying to build my confidence and become healthier, both mentally and physically

tagging: @dianaprincie @cllianmurphy @cinderllas @edgarallan @rosamunqpike @gamoora @nataliamaximoff (sorry if you've done this before, feel free to ignore!)

#this took so long!!!!!#tag games

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doctornolonger · 7 years

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“This Town Will Never Let Us Go” Prologue

11:32 p.m. Six minutes before the first of the rockets hits the square, so right now nothing's burning except for grill-fat.

This is Inangela, and we don't know her yet but we'll take the straightforward, statistical things for granted. She weighs 174 pounds; she's slightly shorter than she needs to be, although obviously high-heeled boots are de rigueur for someone in her position; and despite having the kind of cola-black hair that looks as if it evolved as camouflage for nightclubs with broken strip-lighting, it's bright red at the ends where a drunken experiment with scarlettine unexpectedly became a fashion statement halfway through. But if we're talking about fashion statements, then it's hard to get away from the mask. Contrary to what we might expect by now, the mask doesn't mark her out as a member of a death-obsessed guerrilla cult any more than combat pants on a twelve-year-old boy mark him out as a member of a military junta. So what does it say about her? This not-quite-fetishwear, this mask that looks like bone but really must be some kind of mass-produced polymer? Does it say that she's showing off? That she believes in something specific? That she doesn't believe in anything specific, and that this is her way of proving it?

That she liked the colour?

Now, this alleyway - with all its archaeological layers of advertising - is set just off the square, so Inangela's got a good view of the town's central, fat-insulated artery from where she's sitting. It's not just about seeing, though. There are places to eat in the square, most of them stalls with their counters open to the air, breathing out blood-hot paprika-smoke while the rest of the town freezes. Maybe it's a rare and exquisite combination of factors, or maybe it's just that there's no difference between one counter and the next, but you're downwind of the stalls wherever you go and the smells never contradict each other: however savage the competition might be between the vendors, it's as if all those razor-thin slices of sausage are rolling their eyes (metaphorical eyes, we hope) and deciding to co-operate while the humans fight among themselves. Things are frying tonight, and every night. It sinks into the air in the same way it sinks into the oil, so the atmosphere here in the alleyway is like every vegetarian's memory of how great bacon used to taste.

The town needs to be fed, especially now it's under fire. Inangela used to have a theory about that, which happens to be true, although maybe not literally true. When she was younger her friends used to ritually steal and incinerate "Neighbourhood Watch" signs, this being the cleverest and most ironic thing you can possibly do when you're fifteen ("ritually" in the sense that even if it wasn't exactly an initiation, each theft was at least a small, superstitious event). Inangela's theory held that without all these signs, without that symbolic protection, the Great Urban Horror could tunnel its way up out of the ground and start to feed on the surface-world. She still tends to see things that way. The sacred pattern of town-planning has been broken, and the thing which used to lie buried under the streets - under every street that ever existed - has been set free, hence the omens in the bill-hoardings and the lights in the sky which less interesting people believe to be long-range missiles.

Just a few hours from now Inangela is going to have her own encounter with the Great Urban Horror. Or at least she's going to think so, but by that point her consciousness will have been subtly altered by (in no particular order) chocolate, alcohol, onion rings and at least one mildly occult narcotic. All of which makes her sound incredibly selfish, as if it doesn't take more than a few deep-fried chemicals to turn her into the centre of her own urban legend, but let's be fair. This town is a town in wartime: this generation is a generation raised on shellfire as well as spare ribs. The food isn't the only thing that's liable to hyper-stimulate the nervous system.

We all have to go through these initiations. Little ones, anyway. We'd like to think that Inangela hides her face behind a big shiny bat-skull because she wants the attention, and to be honest that's not entirely untrue. But she's young. She's only nineteen. If this weren't a time of war then we'd say she just needs to get it out of her system, although really it's more a kind of longing. Cut off from the rest of humanity by so many things - by her thoughts, by her words, by a culture which showers the world around her with warheads and acts as if it's perfectly normal for the War to go on forever, and of course by her exemplary fashion sense - it'd be truer to say that she just wants to be where the action is. To have one of the rockets detonate less than six feet from her body: to be able to say, in a world where everyone sees things happen at a distance, that she's been in the middle of the Warzone and Dear God she knows what it feels like. We might have guessed as much.

Because we are, for the purposes of this story, the elders and archons of Faction Paradox. That's the kind of audience Inangela wants, so that's the audience we're going to give her. The ones who watch from outside history, who pay attention to impeccable creatures like her because obviously she deserves to be rewarded for being more interesting than anyone else. A clique of ancient, nigh-immortal beings who reject the ways of the ruling class and smile on those who wear the right badges... well, it could almost be a kind of wish-fulfilment. So tonight - for one night only - we'll be in charge of the Faction, at its best, at its brightest, at its shiniest, before the worst days of the War and before its lapse into sheer ruthless bloody-mindedness. We'll watch everything Inangela does, we'll applaud her as she either (a) saves or (b) destroys the world as she knows it, and come the dawn we'll rate her adventures out of ten. Although she may lose marks for that coat.

By the time the rockets reach the square at 11:38, Inangela has already left the area. At midnight precisely she'll become a heroine.

Let's start there.

#lawrence miles #this town will never let us go #faction paradox

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temporaklepticgalanty · 5 years

Text

Just For Fun - Least Stable Session*

The classes I'm using for this one are Knight, Page, Thief, Rogue, Maid, Heir, Bard, Prince, Seer, Mage, Witch, and Sylph. The aspects I'm using are Time, Space, Life, Doom, Heart, Mind, Breath, Blood, Light, Void, Rage, and Hope. The least possible stable session is 12 Bard Circus, Baby, but for the creativity let's say no double dipping. Buckle up, Homestuck.

Prince of Space is a very active class that destroys creativity, locations, distance, patience, and material form. Things are getting maximum alienist right out of the gate. The PoS has petulant rages that destroy all sensible anchors of setting, putting all the other players in an arbitrary surreal nightmare. No one is even likely to know about frog duties at all. Needless to say, this is almost certainly the deadest possible session — but all's fair when you play in the encroached Furthest Ring, now just the Horrifying Alien Void All Around Us.

Page of Time is an active class that has very little time, temporality, spontaneity, or endings, and through great effort, grows into power. Pages are people who really need to be pushed by externalities to actualize, which is going to be impossible in this session, for many wonderful reasons. When all they need is some time, a nascent Page is going to be too busy being overwhelmed. And sometimes being limitless is a hindrance ... like when physical laws have no more meaning.

Knight of Breath is a passive class that is utilized by direction, change, liberty and wind, usually for the benefit of others. And what does it mean for individuality to use you for itself? Well, you end up a bad puppet and a bad teammate both. A KoB is someone whose lack of attention and binding makes their frantic efforts too scattered to be effective. Without a strong influence to get them to give up on some things so that they can at least save some others, they just end up with their reach forever exceeding their grasp. And if you buy into this particular nonsensical fancanon, this embodiment of unmitigated ADHD is going to be juggling much too much to do proper frog recon.

Bard of Blood is a very passive class that uses connections, obligations, blood, and interconnectivity to destroy those things, and to destroy them in others. The BoB is a spiteful gossip, a bully, and a violent manipulator. Like the queen bee in a teen movie about cruel high schoolers, they are so stuck in their own heads that the only way to slow their toxicity enough that they can begin to see it would be a brave and shocking intervention — or getting hit by a bus. The unquestioned center of their social circle (because everyone is too genuinely afraid to question it) this sadistic predator will leave the session with plenty of tangled puppet strings and no actual leadership.

Thief of Light is a notably active class that takes knowledge, focus, insight, and luck all for themself. With apologies to any arachnid-themed candy corn extradimensional aliens out there, this has got to be the most selfish and bombastic blowhard in Paradox Space. If the ThoL doesn't learn to stop making everything all about me, me, me, they're going to spend a brutal and nasty life all alone, alone, alone. Teamwork is an impossible dream, potentially even as a matured, actualized person, except in the case of, say, a severely emotionally stunted Page of some sort to imprint codependently on. While they are still in the "making mistakes" part of "learning from their mistakes," they'll be hoarding any good fortune just when this hellscape session would be needing it to patch their flimsy foundations.

Witch of Void is an active class that changes secrets, obfuscation, unreality, and everything unknowable, sometimes in surprising and powerful ways. Who can say what they're even capable of? And after the Prince of Space leaves everything Voidy as hell, everything is going to rest on their narrow, hard to discern shoulders. A WoV hardly even knows anything about themself, as prone as they is to self-contradiction, so how are they supposed to know how to dig in deep and flip the right blackout switches for the identifiable to emerge? And how much juice could they even have in the tank, anyway? The way the events go is all going to turn on them.

Rogue of Heart is a notably passive class that takes identity, emotional fortitude, affection, and feelings, to give away to other people. Equal parts dependent and hidden behind façades, the RoH has trouble coping with their own personality, emotions, and desires. While an actualized Rogue of Heart could be helpful as counsel, they start out with a real lack of confidence or reflection regarding their aspect, and never quite gets to the feeling that what they grasp is best kept in their hands. The best they can be at the start is a non-factor. But who is always at their best? And can this chaos really use any more burdens?

Heir of Mind is a subtly passive class that is created and protected by choice, thoughts, logic, and justice. No one will ever be as single-minded about taking things into their own hands like this protofascist buffoon. It's ironically hard to say if they've ever made a decision for themself, because the narrow edge of Occam's Razor has been carving away at them before they're even sapient. Like a Batman Spock, they're more interesting as a foible than they are tolerable as an immature kid, and the absolute stuntedness of their reactive thinking is not going to be able to cope with this chaotic Medium. Not that they'll have the capacity to reflect like this, as pushed on by their dogmas to act, act, act right about now, now, now!

Mage of Life is an active class that experientially discovers and becomes knowledgeable about vitality, vivacity, progress, and biology. Honestly not a bad classpect in general, but considering Mages seem to learn about their aspect by ramming their face into the brick wall of its hard lessons, I'm not going to argue that trying to dive headfirst through Life is easy, swift, or necessarily productive. This (potentially charming) loser will be so occupied with the fits and starts of putting one foot in front of the other, that by the time they're really starting to limp along, everything and everyone will be nothing for nobody. The MoL is going to have to hope for a multimedia self-fulfilling DMRA paradox, because their talent for bloody-nosed endurance is just plain not enough.

Maid of Doom is a subtly active class that creates and protects rules, restrictions, decay, and the inescapable, like death itself. They have so much inherent doom, in fact, that one could even say they exemplify it. If the MoD even survives entry without getting double dead, which I would be shocked to hear, they'd be such a petty pedantic hardass, even petty pedantic hardasses think they should relax. This quality doesn't help with the Prince, Page, and Witch making everything as incomprehensible as possible, and they'd inevitably (isn't everything they do seemingly inevitable?) spin their wheels the whole time trying to impose their desperately needed order.

Seer of Hope is a passive class that intuitively discovers and becomes knowledgeable about hope, desire, benevolence, self-motivation, faith and fantasy, which sounds really nice until you remember Seers are giving out what they learn to this pack of losers. A Seer going solo is a Seer burning themselves out, and a SoH especially is an obsessive dreamer without peer. In a healthier session, the Seer would be a powerful asset; in this session, the Seer is at their best a bitter contrast and at worst a chainsaw in the hands of a naked drunk.

Sylph of Rage is a passive class that is readily changed by and restores skepticism, rebellion, excess, immediacy, and fury. They're going to have a turbulent rage-aholic phase, and it's going to be infectious. Given everything else blowing up around them, does it matter what they're capable of afterwards? And that's all there really is to say about the matter.

It's important, I think, to point out that there is the slimmest possible chance that, through some quirk of emergent factors, some unheard of miracle, that this group could in fact achieve their Ultimate Reward. If a miraculous string of ridiculous miracles goes off, everyone might even survive! But they won't. Because it won't. But like rubbernecks watching an accident, the horror would at least draw attention and generate interest, and schadenfreude is as old as people and still as alluring. And wouldn't it be satisfying to prove me (and themselves) wrong? Being unstable, after all, doesn't mean being unlikeable nor irredeemable.

#classpect #libro #long post #most series

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